


An Independent Will

by Butt3rfly



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Jane Eyre Fusion, BB-8 is an adorable french kid, Class Differences, F/M, Slow Burn, Tags to be added as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-20 01:52:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8232005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butt3rfly/pseuds/Butt3rfly
Summary: The reylo Jane Eyre AU nobody asked for.“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”





	1. Beginnings

Rey held the letter in both her hands, the way she had for much of the carriage trip. She had taken it out of her pocket, unfolded it, traced over the contents, folded it again and put it swiftly back in the confines of the plain beige fabric of her skirts several times. By now, it was creased and worn, and to her served as a kind of metaphor for her tiredness. Each jolt of the carriage woke her from any semblance of slumber, and as she peeled back the curtain and gazed out into the countryside she could see little. The sun was quickly disappearing behind a long line of trees.

‘If R.K – who advertised in the Ileenium Herald of last Thursday, possesses the acquirements mentioned; and if she is in a position to give satisfactory references as to character and competency; a situation can be offered her where there is but one pupil, a little girl, under ten years of age; and where the salary is thirty pounds per annum. R.K is requested to send references and all particulars to the direction:  
Mrs Kanata, Thornfield Hall.”

The lettering was unsteady, the lines a little uneven. Rey imagined a woman getting on in years, writing by candlelight with poor vision and a shaky hand. The carriage that had come to collect her was late, and the footman seemed hardly perturbed by the small size of her luggage. From this she surmised that Mrs Kanata was not a woman of great airs and graces, which pleased her. 

Rey had spent the past eight years at the Jakku School for girls. Though the years before that had been spent in relative luxury, after the death of the father she could barely remember she had been sent to live with her Aunt Reed and her three children – John, Georgiana and Eliza. They never loved her - that much was plain. Rey found herself growing closer to the maids than her would-be maternal figure. John Reed frequently reminded her of her place in the world. “Rat!” he would yell at her, grabbing at her hair as she yelped in pain. “Mama says you are a dependent and you have no money. Your father left you none. You live off of our scraps and mama’s charity. You ought to be begging on the streets, and not living here with gentlemen’s children like us, eating the food we do, and wearing clothes at mama’s expense.” Rey shuddered as the carriage rattled on through the night, stroking the envelope in her hands. She hoped Mrs Kanata would not be of their ilk, especially seeing as she doubted she could wallop an old woman in the way she had deflected John.

Rey straightened her back. She had to remind herself she was not a little girl anymore. The letter in her hands proved that. Rey was a woman of eighteen with an occupation. Should this position prove undesirable, she had the freedom to move elsewhere.

Her thoughts travelled to the little girl mentioned in the letter. Who was she to Mrs Kanata? A granddaughter? And if that were the case... what had become of her parents? Rey’s eyes searched the letter once more. No mention of the child’s name. The letter presented her, through absence of information, as a nameless little girl with no parents... the thought made her heart twinge. 

After a time, the carriage came to an abrupt halt. Rey tumbled forward, her bonnet falling off of her head and covering her eyes. By the time she had righted herself, the footman had opened the door and unfolded the stairs. He held out a hand to her, but she pressed her lips together in a wan smile and got herself down the stairs with no trouble. If the man was offended by her rejection of his gentlemanly courtesy, he did not show it. As he went to retrieve her bag, Rey lifted her eyes towards Thornfield hall.

There was not much to make out in the darkness, save for candles in some of the windows. One near what Rey supposed to be the entrance, and the other in a tall tower, so high it almost appeared as some kind of flickering star. She blinked several times in quick succession as the breeze blew across her face. When her gaze fell on the high candle again, it suddenly went out. She shivered.

“Miss Kenobi?” queried the footman, who appeared puzzled at her hesitation. Rey nodded to him, and followed after as they made their way up the stairs.

The door opened to a long hallway, and Rey followed through into a larger, though still cosy, sitting area. The fireplace was lit, sending flickering shadows across the room that seemed to emphasise its lack of colour. The walls were a very dark, grim grey, but even from where she stood Rey could see cobwebs in the corners. She jumped at a sudden loud snore from the armchair. Rey could see a woman, small as a child, whose bony hands were clutching at a book in her lap, precariously close to falling onto her foot.

The man behind her cleared his throat loudly.

“Mrs Kanata-“ the woman jumped up, and cursed as the aforementioned tome thumped down on her shoe. 

“Mr Mitaka. Stop creeping amongst the shadows and announce yourself properly, with dignity, next time. Is your occupation supposed to involve scaring old women half to death every time you enter a room?” Mrs Kanata had pushed her glasses up her nose and, despite her diminutive height, looked almost intimidating as she glared up at the man. Mitaka, to his credit, did not shrink back, though Rey noticed an unmistakeable sheen of sweat on his brow. She bit back the urge to laugh. 

Mitaka cleared his throat once more, “Mrs Kanata, I am sorry to disturb you at this late hour, but this is the new governess. Miss Rey Kenobi.”

“Yes, yes, I know her name. You may leave.” Mrs Kanata had transferred her gaze from the footman to Rey as she stood in the centre of the room, her bag clutched tightly in her hands. She prepared herself for a cold glare, or a lecture akin to the one she had just launched at the unsuspecting footman. Instead, Mrs Kanata smiled freely. 

Rey’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly before she smiled back. “Thank you for accepting me for this position, Mrs Kanata. It is truly an honour to be able to work in such a grand house.”

“Grand? No one has considered this house grand for a very long time. No doubt you have noticed the cobwebs and dust. Come, girl, sit by the fire. We must acquaint ourselves, for we will be spending an excessive amount of time together in this house!”

Mrs Kanata withdrew and returned with a pot of tea and two glasses. Though the hour was late, she could not bring herself to refuse the old woman, who had gained a twinkle in her eye at the prospect of chatting with another soul. 

“It must get terribly lonely, in a big house like this. Do you have many other servants?” Rey said after a time.

Mrs Kanata burst out laughing, and Rey jumped and spilled a few drops of tea on her dress.

“Heavens, no! What do you mean, child? Why should I have servants?”

Rey felt her face heating up. “I only meant... you own such a large property, one would think you would need assistance with-“

“Dear child, I do not own Thornfield hall! I am merely its housekeeper.”

Rey was puzzled. “Then, the little girl, she is not your granddaughter?” She was rather ashamed at having made so many assumptions, though the letter was proving itself to have been exceedingly vague.

“You have quite an imagination, Miss Kenobi. What an idea! Babette Huit is Mr Ren’s ward. He commissioned me to find a governess for her. She does not speak English very well, having not been in the country more than six months. Miss Huit is a dear little thing, she has really brightened my days.” Mrs Kanata leaned forward and clasped Rey’s hands in her own. “I believe we shall all get on splendidly, I cannot express to you how it will warm me to have more company. There is Miss Phasma, but she can be such a bore, and Finn and Mr Dameron – ah, well, I find men cannot converse with old women in a satisfactory manner.”

Rey’s head was swimming at the new information brought to her. She had expected to be answering only to Mrs Kanata, and had looked forward to the prospect when she had determined her to be of good character. But now... in a way, she felt emboldened and comforted by the fact that their easy friendship was no condescension. Mrs Kanata was no great lady; she was a dependent as well.

“Who is this Mr Ren?” Rey asked at last. “Forgive me, you must think I am terribly uninformed.”

“He is a good master, always civil, and I could not ask for more,” Mrs Kanata explained simply. She patted Rey’s hands with her own and withdrew them. “Ah, but look at the time! I will show you to your room, dear.”

Rey was astounded at the sight of her room, so much so that she felt her entire face light up in a smile. Mrs Kanata glanced at her and let out a light laugh, “My goodness Miss Kenobi, you do have such a smile!”

 

After saying a kind goodnight, Rey closed the door and squealed with delight as she ran around the room, admiring the floral wallpaper, so unlike the unseemly wooden planks at Jakku. There was a wooden alcove by the window where she could sit and stare out at the grounds in the daytime. She even had her own little fireplace, which gave her a thrill as she remembered the long, hard nights spent shivering under a thin cotton blanket. She sat a few minutes at the dressing table, upon which sat a high backed mirror, slightly rusted at the edges. Rey surveyed her reflection – she had always been plain and presentable, and she decided that her surroundings suited her very well. 

Rey jumped onto the bed, spreading her arms wide as she stared up at the ceiling. The bed was so comfortable she could have sworn she was a bird floating on a cloud. She felt her spirit soaring with the knowledge that for the first time in her life, she felt she was going somewhere, making a life for herself. She got up again, somewhat reluctantly, to dress herself in her nightgown for bed. As she drifted off, her thoughts went to her mysterious employer, a strange sense of anxiety niggling at the edges of her consciousness as she was embraced by blissful dark.


	2. The witching hour

Rey awoke that morning feeling refreshed and ready for the day’s activities. She dressed in her usual beige muslin, and tidied her hair in the manner with which she had become accustomed – three buns at the back of her head. She surveyed her complexion in the mirror briefly, taking in her pale appearance, and turning her gaze to the window she noted it was such a bright, beautiful day that she should like to spend some time outdoors in the sun.

  
“Good morning, Miss Kenobi!” Mrs Kanata said cheerily when she entered the kitchen. “An early riser, I see!”

  
“It is my favourite time of the day,” Rey explained, recalling the days at Jakku when she would get up just as the sun rose, setting up her easel on a hill to paint. She accepted a bowl of fruit from the older woman. “When will I have the pleasure of meeting Mr Ren and his ward?”

  
Mrs Kanata snorted. “Oh, do not expect to be seeing much of Mr Ren. I know not when he will return to Thornfield, he spends much of his time away.”

  
“Oh,” Rey said simply. She could not explain why she felt quite so disappointed at this news. “And Mademoiselle Huit?”

  
“I will take you to her once I give you a tour of Thornfield, now that it is light you will be able to see better. You may even spot the other servants hiding about.” Mrs Kanata was clearly amused with herself.

  
“Why would they be hiding?” Rey chuckled. “Surely they’re not afraid of me.”

  
“No, my dear, they are afraid of me. I instil fear in the hearts of the bravest of men.” She cackled, then, such a large sound for a small woman. “It’s the eyes, you see. You live long enough and you see the same eyes in different people. I know how to read people, you cannot hide a thing from an old woman like me.”

  
Rey tilted her head to the side, considering. “And what do you see in my eyes?” Mrs Kanata stepped forward and placed her hands on either side of Rey’s face, tilting her own face upwards to examine her.

  
“I see spirit like a tempest... bravery and strength. Kindness derived from suffering.”

  
“That’s a lot to gather from simply one’s eyes!” Rey exclaimed, moving backwards a little uncomfortably. It was as if the woman could see right through her, as if in one glance she had laid bare her innermost fears. In the dark corners of her past there was a room with crimson walls, haunted by ghosts and nightmares. It was a place she had no desire of returning to. “I think I am ready to meet the rest of the household,” Rey said at last, placing her bowl on the table with enough noise to draw Mrs Kanata’s prying eyes from her own.

* * *

 

If Thornfield hall had seemed grand and mysterious upon her arrival the previous evening, it was even more so when fully lit. Rey’s eyes widened as she caught sight of the decorated wood panelling in the hallway.

  
“Is this blackthorn?” she gasped, tracing over the etching of a trio of angels.

  
Mrs Kanata made a face. “I have no idea. How have you come to know of such things?”

  
“I spent a lot of time reading at Jakku. We had so many books on the historical houses and churches of England. I just always thought they were so beautiful. To think some families get to live for generations in these beautiful old estates... I spent hours imagining myself in a home like this.”

  
Mrs Kanata chuckled. “And now you reside at Thornfield! I must say, architecture is a strange fascination for a young woman.”

  
“I like to make things. To paint and draw... but also to build. Clearly not large estates, but I made trinket boxes and dolls and such for the girls at Jakku. We never had such fine wood... but I imagine basswood is a lot easier to engrave.”

  
“Ah, so the lady has skill with a knife. We must all sleep with one eye open,” a handsome man with tan skin and dark eyes rounded the corner and swept into a low bow. His accent was smooth and American, and served to highlight his charm.

  
“Mr Ren does seem to have a habit of collecting dangerous women under this roof,” Mrs Kanata said quickly. From their previous discussion Rey assumed she was referring to herself in jest, but she did not miss the quick glance of wide-eyed warning that the man shot her. Mrs Kanata pressed her lips into a thin line. Rey did not have time to dwell on her observations.

  
“Poe Dameron, the cook.” He swept into a low bow.

  
“Rey Kenobi, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  
“BB-8 was so excited to hear of your arrival, she was making the most ridiculous squealing noises that I could have sworn she was some kind of haywire automaton.”

  
“BB-8?” Rey asked.

  
Mrs Kanata sighed. “Mademoiselle Huit, who Mr. Dameron seems incapable of addressing by her correct title.”

  
Poe smiled and the sight was momentarily blinding. Rey blinked a few times to recover herself. “She finds the English language so amusing.”

  
Poe and Mrs Kanata accompanied Rey out into the garden. It was rather bare in the autumnal season, the ground littered with leaves in shades of red that blew around in circles. A man in white overalls was cleaning the grounds with a rake, catching the leaves before they begun their dance and pushing them into a sack. He looked up as the trio came into a view and docked his hat.

  
“’Morning, Miss!” he said cheerily, planting the rake in the dirt and leaning against it.

  
“This here is Finn, only the most talented landscaper in England,” Poe drawled.

  
Finn made a face, “only in England?”

  
Rey could tell from their easy company that these were close friends.

  
“It is a beautiful garden,” she said. “It looks like in Spring it would be full of green. I’m afraid Jakku was frightfully dreary. Rather too much grey for my liking.”

  
A kind of dark shadow crossed Finn’s face. “Jakku?”

  
Rey met his eyes in surprise. “The girls’ home. I lived there these past eight years. Are you familiar with the institution?”

  
Finn stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. “No, miss. Can’t say I’ve heard of it.” He smiled at her again, less enthusiastic this time, and turned back to the leaves. Poe looked apologetic, and shrugged.

  
“Poe!” Rey whirled around at the noise, and a blur of red and white collapsed into Poe’s arms as he laughed broadly. A little girl, skin white as porcelain and hair a bright ginger hue gazed up at him adoringly. Mrs Kanata introduced Rey to Babette, who immediately threw her arms around her and announced she would not simply be her governess; they would be the best of friends.

 

* * *

 

Mrs Kanata joined Rey when she returned to the hall to gather some books and her sketchbook, but their companionable silence was interrupted by a strange, off-kilter cackle. Rey whirled around, supposing the sound to be a lot closer than it seemed to be, for there was no one in sight. She heard it again, a preternatural, doleful sound unlike anything she had ever heard. It sent shivers racing through her.

  
“What was that?” she asked the old woman, whose eyes were darting around the room.

  
“Oh, nothing, dear. Just Miss Phasma, probably. Miss Phasma!” Rey did not expect the woman to make a sudden entrance, but that she did, as though she had been listening around the corner. She was a very tall woman, broad and big-boned, with a shock of white-blond hair.

  
“Too much noise, Phasma. Remember directions!” The woman curtseyed, an almost comical thing given her size, and shot Rey a look of uninhibited distaste before making an unhurried exit.

 

* * *

 

Rey sat with Babette on the grass after their first lesson. She took her sketches and some paintings from her satchel and Babette’s eyes widened.

  
“Magnifique, Mademoiselle Kenobi!” she exclaimed.

  
“Please, just call me Rey.”

  
Babette’s eyes widened, and she smiled a toothy grin. “That is... how you say? The sun,” she pointed a slender hand at the sky and gestured downwards in a fluttering motion.

  
Rey nodded in understanding. “It is spelled differently, but yes – like a ray from the sun. You’re very clever.”

  
“Monsieur Ren despises the sun, he says it is bad for the complexion,” Babette said, scrunching up her face. She twirled a strand of red hair around her finger and stared absently at the grass. Rey frowned. Surely the man would not be so unyielding as to prevent the child from playing in the sun. Babette’s skin was remarkably pale, but then so was Rey’s. She glanced up at the sky, where clouds still loomed, ever-present as the autumnal gloom around them.

  
“Monsieur Ren is mistaken, the sun is excellent for the skin. And your health. We will be studying outdoors from now on, providing it does not rain.” Ren’s opinion be damned.

  
Babette’s face lit up. “Vous moi apprendre à peindre?” She grabbed one of Rey’s paintings from her satchel and pressed her face close to the paper.  
“Yes, I will teach you to paint. Only if you can beat me to the bottom of the hill!” Rey jumped up and grabbed her skirts, running headlong down the grassy knoll. Babette burst into laughter and instead of running after her, began a series of forward-rolls. She arrived at the bottom several seconds after Rey, but when she looked up, face flushed and red hair dishevelled, she said, “lentement mais surement, on réussit!” Slow and steady wins the race. She looked so proud of herself that Rey found herself nodding and laughing.

  
“Tomorrow morning,” she said as Babette got to her feet, “we will begin with still-life acrylic.”

  
“I shall create something beautiful for Monsieur Ren, and he will love it and me all the more for such a gift,” Babette grinned, dusting off her skirts. Despite her boisterous personality, there was something of the makings of a lady in her.

Rey studied Babette carefully, Mrs Kanata’s earlier words returning to her. _Do not expect to be seeing much of Mr Ren. I know not when he will return to Thornfield, he spends much of his time away._ It was not difficult to imagine the loneliness Babette would feel, that the closest she had to family seemingly abandoned her for such frequent and long periods of time, in a country foreign to her. Rey never really had a family to abandon her, because she had never loved her Aunt Reed and her cousins as she should have. No matter how hard she tried to make them love her, they hated her even more. Sending her to Jakku had been somewhat of a relief – although it had been hard, cold and trying, she had preferred living there to living with the Reeds.

But Babette did love Mr Ren - that much was clear. She doted on him. The loss of his presence must hurt all the more. The girl was spoiled, but she was also lonely. No amount of frilly dresses and expensive dolls could make up for the absence of her family. She wanted to ask what had become of the child’s parents, and though she was prone to assuming and reading between the lines, she felt like Babette was a map better left unread for the time being.

* * *

 

It was getting dark by the time the two returned to the house, but after Rey sent Babette to bed she still found she had energy. It was as if Babette had restored some vitality to her, invigorated her with newfound purpose. She decided she would look for some flowers to arrange for tomorrow’s painting lesson. After dressing in her warmer brown cloak, Rey found an empty basket in the kitchen and slung it over her wrist. A quick perusal of the grounds gave her an unsatisfactory collection of drooping daisies, and she surveyed her sad little collection with distaste. She resolved to venture out of the grounds and onto the road, where she imagined among the trees she might find some bluebells or jonquils. Though unlikely in the beginning of autumn, Rey considered herself an optimist – she would return to Thornfield with something more impressive than half dead stalks.

Leaves and twigs crunched underfoot as Rey made her way out into the gloom. It was quickly getting dark, but she could still see ahead of her, and if she followed the road there was no chance of becoming lost. To her delight, she found some bluebells, a little browned, but they provided a pretty contrast to her other flowers. After she knelt and picked them from the ground, placing them carefully in the basket, she noticed the fog that was swimming about her ankles. It had come on so quickly, creeping through the trees and surrounding her in a haze she could hardly see through. There was a chill in the air, now, and she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head to warm herself.

Through the trunks in the distance came a strange, guttural howl that was almost human, almost like a word. Her heart beat hard in her chest and her breaths came faster.

  
“H-hello?” she called out, wondering if it was someone in pain. Suddenly, something brushed past her, and Rey jumped back out of the way. She tripped on a root and fell in the middle of the road, and when she finally recollected herself she looked up to see a huge dog, long brown fur covering its body, large fangs posed ready to bite. Rey couldn’t help herself - she screamed.

  
Out of nowhere, a horse reared directly behind her, and the figure atop it pulled its reins back, hard. The horse bucked, and the rider went flying.

Rey could only stare in horror at the person lying sprawled on the ground near her, unmoving. She got to her feet in a rush and headed over to the man who lay there, the man who, in one quick movement, had both saved her life and possibly mortally injured himself.

  
“I’ve killed him...” Rey whispered, blanching. She put a hand over her mouth. The dog, who she had completely forgotten about, padded around its master and began to lick his face, whining. He did not seem such a fearsome beast now, it seemed the beast was Rey herself. She crept closer to the man, intent on turning him over and surveying what she had done.

  
He moved suddenly, waving his arm at the dog. “Get away, Chewie,” he grumbled in a deep tone.

  
“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Your voice is the best sound I have ever heard in my life.” The man groaned in response, flipping himself onto his back and reaching down to grab his leg.

  
“I thought you were a witch, but clearly you are a siren materialised from the fog, intent on sorcery through seduction. You flatter me to get me to drop my guard after making me fall from my horse.”

  
Rey’s face flamed in indignation at his insinuations. “It is the best sound I have yet heard, sir, simply because it means I am not a murderer.”

  
He finally removed his arm from where he had flung it across his face. Though it was darker now, almost too dark to ascertain his features, the sun had not yet completely disappeared and provided scant light. He observed Rey from his uncomfortable position on the ground, his face angled upwards. He had strong features, but not those that would be classified as traditionally handsome. His nose was long and aquiline, and he had full lips that seemed poised in a kind of permanent smirk. His complexion was marked by a few large freckles on his otherwise pale skin.

  
“Do you... require assistance?” Rey said after a moment, pulling her cloak tighter around herself in the growing chill. The man snorted derisively and began to stumble to his feet unaided. It was not without effort, Rey could see how he winced when he applied pressure to his leg. When he stood at his full height, Rey was startled to find the man was the tallest she had ever met. His chest was broad, accentuated by the black coat he wore. He blew strands of his wayward dark hair away from his face and surveyed her calculatingly.

  
“I cannot in good faith leave you here, sir, considering I was the cause of your accident,” Rey said.

  
“If you are not my murderer, then you must be my saviour,” he eyed the basket that had fallen from her hands. “You can leave your cauldron and assist me.” Rey bristled, but she turned back to him and raised an eyebrow. He gestured towards his horse, a huge dark thing like himself that had not gone too far away.

  
“Bring my horse over, unless you’re afraid.” There was a teasing lilt in his deep voice that constituted a dare, and it made her more determined to complete the task despite the fact she had very little experience with horses. Rey walked over to the beast and tenderly picked up its reins. It snorted loudly, causing her to jump and drop them, but she recovered quickly.

  
“Don’t be afraid,” the man said softly, though if he were speaking to her or the horse she could not be certain. He seemed the type to speak to everyone with an air of command. She had seen his fine clothes and his regal bearing, perhaps he considered her the same level as his horse. Nonetheless, she had injured him, so she was resolved to helping him. Bracing herself, Rey pulled gently, trying to coax it forward. When it dug its hooves in, she cursed inwardly for its obstinacy and pulled harder. Her face was growing red both from strain and embarrassment as she felt the man’s eyes on her, studying her every move. There was something intense in his gaze, as though he possessed a force within him to look into her very thoughts. As though he could lay bare all thoughts of her shortcomings. She shied away from it and went back to her task. At last, she dropped the reins and sighed loudly. The man chuckled in response.

  
“I’m sorry, I cannot do it. I live nearby, I can fetch you some help.” She looked at his face again, and there was undeniable amusement in his eyes that offset the coldness of his manner.

  
“Do you live in that large estate down the drive?” he asked, pointing towards Thornfield.

  
Rey nodded. “It is a short walk, I can return within-“

  
“And you are...” his eyes dropped to her dress, and Rey was suddenly self-conscious of her plain attire. She was clearly no lady, nor a lady’s maid. She only possessed two dresses, exactly the same in beige muslin that crossed over at the front, the one that was less worn being the one she wore to church on Sundays. Her cloak was a dull brown. He knit his brow, clearly finding it difficult to place her, and his eyes dropped to the basket at her feet once more. “You are... a scavenger?” His tone was dismissive.

  
Rey coloured in indignation. “The governess, sir. Recently employed.”

  
“Ah, the governess,” he said, as though he should have known. “Whose house is it?”

  
“Mr Ren’s.”

  
“And do you know Mr Ren?”

  
“No, I have not had the pleasure of making his acquaintance.”

  
“He is not there now, then?”

  
Rey shook her head. “He is often away, so I am told.”

  
Mirth danced in his dark, cold eyes. “Forgive me, but I have been travelling long and can’t afford to wait here any longer in the cold. I live nearby, I can get myself home but I need assistance getting to my horse. Since you are here... come,” the man gestured towards himself. Hesitantly, Rey neared him, and he put a strong, unhesitating hand over her shoulder and took a limping step forward. He hissed in pain and leaned further into her. Rey was suddenly overwhelmed by his closeness, the feeling of his limbs brushing against hers as they slowly moved together. He was much taller than her, and she could feel his laboured breath ghosting in her hair. She had never been this close to a man, let alone a complete stranger. As she guided him forward, he stumbled a little, and held fast to her waist for support. Without moving her head, Rey’s eyes darted to his, meeting for a fraction of a second. He moved his hand back to her shoulder. After what seemed like an age, and yet not long enough to deprive her of the lingering, not unpleasant sensation of his large hand at her waist, he swung himself up onto the creature’s back with a pained grunt.

Once he had settled himself in the saddle, he looked down at Rey again and she half expected him to make another jibe about witchcraft and sorcery, to deride her for causing his fall. He simply said, “thank you. You should complete your scavenge and return quickly, it is getting late.” A touch of spurred heel and the horse bounded away, the dog at its hooves. As quickly and mysteriously as they had appeared, all three had vanished into the gloom, leaving Rey puzzled in their wake.

 

* * *

 

Rey took her time in her return to Thornfield – passing through its gates after what had transpired felt like waking from a surreal kind of dream. The wild, untamed outside was such a contrast to the carefully gardened lawn with its hedges in rows. She had found some nuts and blackberries on her walk, but she would find no such treasures in Thornfield’s garden. Rey admired Finn’s skill, but she could not help but feel as though it was too orderly, too restricted, the wisteria never allowed to reach over the statues, the trees never permitted to touch by a single leaf. There was no wildness here, and it was the wildness she thirsted for. In her mind’s eye, she saw a flash of the stranger on the road, the way he had stared at her with that unbridled power in his eyes. That kind of unpredictability could never possibly be found at Thornfield.

When she finally entered the hall, Rey jerked back in surprise when she saw a great, hairy dog lying by the window, fast asleep. She frowned, blinked. It was the very same dog she had seen with the stranger on the road.

  
“Mr Dameron?” she asked the man as he passed her with a tray of food.

  
“Hmm?”

  
“Who does that dog belong to?”

  
“Mr Ren. He has returned, finally, but he had an accident on the road. We have sent for a surgeon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not super happy with this chapter! But hopefully it will pick up from here now that I've introduced almost everyone. Stay tuned!


	3. Names have power

Kylo Ren sat in a chair by the fire, with one leg resting on a footstool. When he caught sight of Rey nervously standing in the doorway, he began to massage his temple and groaned rather theatrically.

“I believe it is your leg that ails you, Mr Ren, not your head?”

Ren smirked and removed his hand. “Ah. So you’ve divined my name.”

Rey quirked an eyebrow up at him as she ventured further into the room and its welcome warmth.

“How did you do it - read runes?”

“Your housekeeper prevented the need for any sorcery,” Rey replied. “This time, anyway.”

Ren smiled and lounged further in the high backed velvet chair and pet his dog thoughtfully. His eyes never strayed from Rey, though she was content with staring into the flickering flames in the fireplace. “Names have power, you know. The oldest fairy tales tell us that. The key to Rumplestiltskin’s downfall, after all, was for the miller’s daughter to discover his.”

“Ah, but I’m no miller’s daughter. You claimed I was a witch.”

“Was I correct?”

“Perhaps.” Rey pursed her lips. “Are you afraid I will bring about your downfall, now that I know your name?”

His mouth, which had quirked upwards at some point, froze. “Perhaps my true name remains hidden.” He spoke so quietly she might have missed it were she not paying him such close attention.

Rey frowned, considering how his shoulders had tensed a little, his mouth still uncomfortably rigid. He had full lips that provided a softness to the angles that made up the rest of his face. Ren cleared his throat, a deep, barking kind of sound, and shifted almost imperceptibly as though consciously removing traces of any discomfort. Likewise, Rey sighed and suddenly became preoccupied with straightening her skirts. She hoped her perusal of his full lips had gone unnoticed.

“And your name, Miss Kenobi. ‘Rey’ – like light,” his dark eyes sparkled with something that was not borne of the flames from the fire. “I heard you have taken to giving Mademoiselle Huit her lessons outside. Are you determined to vanquish all the darkness from this shadowy hall?”

He spoke as though light were an evil thing, and not the other way around. Rey frowned at the implication, wondering how he had become like this. She supposed that living so long in the shadows one could become accustomed to the lack of sun, of light that might illuminate that which is hidden. Assessing his profile now as he absentmindedly scratched behind Chewbacca’s ears, it occurred to her for the first time that he looked truly troubled. There were shadows beneath his eyes as dark as his coat and the blackness of his hair offset his pallid skin. Haunted, would be a word she would ascribe. The man looked like he shouldered many secrets, and she found herself wishing he would speak them.

“Hm?” he looked at her again when she did not answer.

“Sunlight is beneficial to the soul,” Rey replied lamely. Mr Ren snorted dismissively.

“Babette tells me you have an aptitude for sketching.”

Rey blushed slightly. “I’m not sure if I would declare it an _aptitude_ , but yes, I sketch and paint. There was... much time for such things at Jakku.”

Ren caught on to her hesitation. “Surely there would be plenty to keep you occupied at such an institution?”

“Much work, sir. However... it was a gloomy place. I found myself struggling to find the beauty in it, until I could imagine and paint to make my imaginings a reality.”

He raised an eyebrow, considering her for a moment. “Fetch your portfolio, Miss Kenobi. I would like to see inside your imaginings.”

It was with reluctance that Rey removed herself from the room and returned with a folder filled with her sketches and watercolours. He took them from her gently, his fingers brushing her hands lightly as he did so. Rey did not presume to think he did this intentionally, but she could not help but notice how big they were in comparison to her own, how smooth in contrast to her calloused, work-rendered skin. They were as opposites.

Ren flicked through the pages, pausing every so often and humming. By the end he had removed three pages and set them on the table beside him, facing her. He closed the folder and set it aside.

“You mean to tell me that these images came directly from your head?” He gestured a large hand towards the three pieces of paper. Rey moved closer. The first was an explosion of colours, red and blue, like fireworks in the night sky. In the middle, where the sparks met, a deep harmonic purple seeped towards them both respectively, calming the furore. The second, azure blue waters shone, waves lapping against the shore of some sandy isle she had never visited. The third, an old man lay upon a hill, his age-weary face in repose as he smiled, either in death or sleep.

“Yes,” Rey replied simply.

Ren’s eyes were transfixed, not on the images but on her face, as though he were about to paint her himself. “Were you happy when you painted these?”

The question startled her. “I believe so. Except in the frustration that comes from attempting to bring to life an image that has only existed in one’s head. I never feel as though I can bring these alive as much as I would wish.”

Rey was close enough that Ren could reach out a hand and touch her gently on the side of her face. Rey recoiled almost immediately, shocked by the warmth of them, as though fires lapped beneath his very skin.

Ren blinked and straightened himself, tearing his gaze away from her and looking once more at the paintings. “Well, you haven’t a trained artist’s hand. What are the strokes in the first one? Haphazard at best. The sand in the second – completely incorrect in terms of colour. It’s obvious you’ve never seen an island. I can inform you that sand is much lighter than this.”

“Oh, can you.” Rey replied curtly. His words smarted, and she found herself reeling at his abrupt change of manner.

“Yes. You definitely have need of a teacher.” He shook his head derisively as the clock began to chime. “The time – what are you doing bragging to me when Babette is still awake? Send her to bed at once, you surely see the value in sleeping when it gets to such an hour!”

Rey only just prevented herself from glaring at him outright, she did not want to upset his mood more than necessary when she had already clearly caused him so much trouble. She stood and curtseyed stiffly without uttering a word and left the man to his ill temper.

As she made for Babette’s rooms, Mrs. Kanata took her gently by the elbow.

“What did you think of Mr. Ren?” she asked, her eyes wide and curious. Rey bit the inside of her cheeks. 

“I think he is very changeable,” was all she could manage.

Mrs Kanata nodded her head in understanding, patting the elbow she still held. “You must forgive his abruptness. He may appear rude to a stranger, but I have known him well and long enough to know the truth of the matter.”

Despite herself, Rey remembered how his shoulders had stooped with the weight of the secrets he held back with every word. “What truth?”

“It is in his nature... he has painful thoughts that cause his spirits to be unequal.” Mrs Kanata replied with finality. Rey was not about to let her end there.

“Painful thoughts regarding...?”

Mrs Kanata glanced around the room as though worried she would be overheard. When she spoke again, her voice was lower. “Family troubles, for one.”

“Mr Ren has no family,” Rey replied.

Mrs Kanata pursed her lips and shook her head. “He does, child. He did.”

“You mean... his family are dead?”

“His father passed some eight years since, it took a toll on the family. He sent his mother, the lady Leia, off to France and has not seen her since.”

Rey gasped in horror. How could anyone send their own mother away from them? She felt a small stab in her heart, thinking of how lucky Ren had been and what he had wasted. Eight years of loneliness when he had family still living. He had chosen to be apart from her – Rey had had no choice.

“It sounds shocking, but it may have been for the best. Mr. Han, the master’s father, died under mysterious circumstances and the lady Leia blamed him for the death. They had an argument before he sent her away, the things they yelled at one another... Leia said that he had murdered his own father.”

Rey’s mind was reeling. The room suddenly felt too small, which was ridiculous, because this was Thornfield where there was nothing but space and emptiness.

“Don’t fear, child. I’ve known the master since he was a boy. He was such a gentle thing – sullen, but always caring in his own way. And look how he has taken Babette in without complaint. Mr Snoke always has Mr Ren’s best interests at heart. Recommending Leia’s removal was undoubtedly the right thing to do in a difficult situation.”

“Who is Mr. Snoke?”

Mrs Kanata blinked. “Oh! I never mentioned the man. He is Mr Ren’s employer and confidante in the city. He’s watched out for him for many years and has never led him astray.” She smiled warmly, taking one of Rey’s hands in her own and patting her on the cheek with the other.

Rey frowned, still not understanding why Leia would think such a thing of her supposedly kind, gentle son. How could she accuse him of patricide? She was about to continue to question the old woman but instead Mrs Kanata said goodnight, clearly wishing Rey to drop the subject. She either would not, or could not, give her the answers she needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up 4 months late with Starbucks*
> 
> I apologise, dear readers. Please bear with my crippling anxiety and accept this apology in the form of a chapter. Thank you for waiting. Sometimes I need to accept that perfection is not possible and just do my best. I'm delighted you're enjoying it so far. Comments are forgiveness!


	4. What the Water Gave Me

Rey had found it nearly impossible to sleep that night, her brain mulling over everything that Mrs Kanata had revealed, and everything Ren had not. Eventually, she had tired of those thoughts and instead set her mind to a task – that of making Ren a walking stick. She had gathered up some unused wood earlier in the day with the intention of whittling, and one piece in particular was long enough for her purpose. In little over an hour she had a smooth enough stick in her hand, and she ran her fingers over its handle to assure herself it would be comfortable. It was plain and sturdy, and while it would have suited her just fine, she knew Ren would prefer something more ostentatious. Something befitting his status. Rey sighed and held it up in the candlelight, twisting it around from a few different angles. The curve of the handle reminded her of a beak. Ren’s apparent knowledge of fairy tales made her want to include a bird from a fairy tale, to make it more... special. She blushed and pushed the thought aside. Why should it matter? Nevertheless, she considered both a lark – from The Singing, Springing Lark, and a falcon from a Russian tale she had only seen once in a book she had borrowed from her cousin – before, of course, he had taken it back and thwacked her across the head with it. Rey rubbed the side of her head as she struggled to remember the name...

“The Feather of Finist the Falcon,” she whispered at last. It seemed right to include a bird of prey in her handiwork rather than a simple lark. She recalled the darkness in Ren’s eyes the first time they met and the wildness she saw there.

* * *

There was no wildness in his eyes when she wordlessly gave it to him the following morning. His hair was mussed from sleep and he looked confused more than anything. Taking it in a hand, he tested its weight and nodded.

“You’ve turned me into a real Rumplestiltskin now, Miss Kenobi,” he said. She raised her eyebrow in query. “The name Rumpelstilzchen in German literally translates as ‘little rattle stilt’. A stilt being a post or pole which provides support.”

“Oh.”

“Hmm,” he examined the handle. “I detest falcons.”

Rey bristled. She had spent at least two hours on the stick and he was already deriding it, looking at it like dirt beneath his boot. “I am sure you will come to appreciate it,” she snapped.

He looked up at her then, with a weary expression. “I doubt it. My father was very fond of falconry.”

“Oh,” Rey managed. She was not sure if he meant he detested falcons because of his father’s interest in them, or if he was merely trying to make conversation. Nevertheless, she let the subject drop, guessing it was somewhat of a sore spot for the man. “Where are you going?” 

Mitaka the footman had entered the room and was lugging a bag out the door. Through the window, Rey could glimpse a dark carriage. 

“Where are _we_ going,” Ren corrected, a sudden glint in his eyes. Rey’s mouth went dry.

“Are you entirely sure that would be appropriate, Mr Ren?”

His countenance became confused once more, his dark brows knitting together. “What would be inappropriate about the situation?”

Rey knew her face was flushing and she spoke quieter than before. “I am your ward’s governess, and you are my employer-“

“Oh,” Ren pursed his lips, regarding her carefully. Suddenly, he let out a bark of laughter. “Babette, you, and myself will be going to the seaside. You are her governess, after all, and I am her f-“ he cut himself off, though Rey could see the hesitation in his eyes. “Well,” he continued. “What do you think of this arrangement, Miss Kenobi?”

She tried to keep a calm expression but the truth was that she was overjoyed. Jakku was so far inland that she had never visited the seaside, and her aunt had never taken her along with her cousins on family trips. Rey smiled. “I think I am very much looking forward to it.”

He chuckled, staring at her for a fraction longer than was necessary. “For Babette’s sake, of course,” he teased.

“Naturally, I expect there will be plenty of opportunities for education while we enjoy the change of scenery,” Rey replied. “And the sun.”

Ren smirked.

“Monsieur! Monsieur!” Babette came barrelling into the room and managed a half curtsey before she flung her arms around Ren. He looked incredibly uncomfortable, and disentangled her arms from his.

“You said you ‘ave a present for me from your travels!”

“Did I?”

Babette pouted. “You said you would give it to me this morning!”

Ren paused a moment and glanced down at Babette like she was a stranger. Then he reached into the pocket of his overcoat and produced a roll of paper tied together with a golden ribbon. “Oh!” Babette exclaimed, immediately unravelling the ribbon and tying it in her ginger curls. 

Ren’s lip curled in distaste. “Exactly like her mother, she is,” he grumbled. “No, that’s not it. Roll open the paper.” Rey had half a mind to admonish him for the way he spoke to Babette, but before she could do so the girl fully unravelled the paper to reveal a large decorative map. It was beautiful.

“C’est Magnifique! Merci, monsieur,” Babette exclaimed, squinting over the tiny calligraphic letters. Rey settled behind her and examined it herself. It was large, hand painted, with large letters in gold as well as beautiful cursive detailing every inch of the known world. 

“Vous m’avez achete le monde,” Babette whispered with a smile. She looked up at Ren, who was stone faced.

“No, the world cannot be bought,” he said sternly. “You should learn that now, god knows your mother never did.”

Rey grimaced.

“You should teach her that, Miss Kenobi. Add it to your _lessons_.” 

Rey glared at him. “How a man can claim a disdain for wealth when he enjoys its fruits, I do not know.” Ren had a dark look. “Maybe you only feel concern when it is a woman who enjoys it.”

She could see by the tension in his jaw that he was gritting his teeth. Babette, oblivious, had forgotten about the map and was retying her pretty ribbon.

“You have no idea how much I have sacrificed to achieve the position I now inhabit,” Ren replied coldly. “Do not speak of things you do not understand.”

“I may not understand wealth, sir, but I am capable of feeling pity for a motherless child.”

Ren’s fingers tapped loudly on the table, as though he were seeking an outlet for the frustration he had not fully unleashed.

“You should be kinder to her,” Rey continued, ignoring the anger that emanated from him. “Stop talking about her mother in such a way, she is not to blame.”

“Good morning!” Mrs Kanata intoned cheerily as she bustled into the room with a tray of tea. “I trust you slept well? Oh, what a lovely map!”

Babette grinned, “Oui, but look at my ribbon!”

Mrs Kanata raised her eyebrows, her eyes going comically large as they tended to. “Wonderful, dear! I just-“ she stopped when she caught on to the tension in the room as Ren glared at Rey from across the table. Rey was ignoring him, and smiled at the old woman.

“Good morning, Mrs Kanata.”

Ren sighed and stretched his large shoulders before flattening the map on the table. “Come here, Babette,” he said. The girl skipped over to him and brushed against his side like a kitten. “That,” he pointed with a large finger towards a particular spot on the map, “is where we will be venturing today. Can you read that for me please?”

She leaned over the parchment and squinted in concentration. “T...tattooine beach!” 

Ren smiled lopsidedly and mussed her hair. “Well done.” Babette scrunched up her nose in annoyance and patted down the curls he had dislodged. “We should be back by the evening,” Ren said. 

He cast a glance towards Rey and held out an arm. She raised her chin but deigned to accept the proffered limb.

* * *

The carriage ride seemed so long that Rey would have fallen asleep, if not for the unsteady rocking that often caused her knee to brush against Ren’s, or his against hers. On these occasions she would look away out the window or adjust Babette’s hair. On these occasions he would glance at her from the corner of his eye, a slight smile at his lips. Not that Rey was looking – in fact, she was most determined to avoid him.

Though he had proven he could be nice to Babette on occasion, and, indeed, he had taken her in and provided her with everything she needed – something about his disdain towards her mother bothered Rey immensely. Some people had not the good fortune of a loving, upright family. Rey’s aunt and cousins had been truly awful, and she would have hated to think anyone judged her for their behaviour. It was of Rey’s opinion that every child deserved loving family, and she was not about to let Babette grow up believing otherwise.

“Mademoiselle Kenobi! The ocean!” Babette strained to look out the window, clambering half over Rey’s lap to do so. Rey laughed and joined her. Her mouth went dry.

“What do you think, Miss Kenobi?” Ren asked. She could not tear her sight away from the rolling waves, in such a glorious pristine blue it could never be painted satisfactorily.

“It’s... beautiful. I’ve never seen so much blue in all my life,” she breathed. She finally tore her gaze away from the scenery to smile at Ren. He looked ridiculously tall in the small carriage, as she noticed for the first time that his head touched the ceiling. 

“I thought you would like it,” he said quietly, taking the time to smile at her broadly before tapping the roof with his cane, signalling the driver to bring the carriage to a halt. He held out a hand for Babette to assist her in exiting, but as he did so with Rey, she politely declined – nodding towards him to prevent offense. He seemed rather opposed to her refusal, though he barely showed it. He did, upon finding his hand unused and suspended in midair, take a second to recover himself.

Babette whooped excitedly and, picking up her skirts, ran headlong towards the beach. Her hat flew off her head and she paid it no heed, her heels kicking up granules of sand that Rey knew would be a trouble trying to remove from her clothes and shoes later.

Shaking her head, Rey began to follow. 

“Surely you will not spurn my arm as well as my hand?” Ren asked, and when she turned towards him realised he had extended it to her. 

“Did we not prepare a basket?” Rey asked. 

“Oh, Mitaka will bring it,” Ren said dismissively, and Rey looked back at the carriage as it was unloaded. Something glinted from beneath a blanket.

“What on earth is that?” Rey squinted at the object, stepping closer and drawing it from where it lay. It was a sword – fine and slim, with a three-pronged blade unlike any she had ever seen in the military books the Reeds had kept. The most fascinating thing about it was that the blade was tinged red. Rey almost dropped it at the thought it might have been stained with blood – and the deeper thought she dare not utter, that it might have been his father’s blood, as though she were Bluebeard’s wife coming across the evidence of murder in a bloodied key. Upon closer inspection, however, she found that it appeared to be naturally coloured that way.

“That... is my legacy,” he explained, taking hold of the sword in his free hand.

“What need have you for a sword?” she asked uncertainly.

“More need than you would realise,” Ren replied, and he swung it around with expert precision that had Rey stepping back. “My grandfather served the Empire. He was a Sith lord.” Ren moved with such grace despite his leg, not removing his eye from the blade as it tore through the air with a strange crackle. Rey had studied the wars extensively during history lessons at Jakku.

“The Sith were evil,” Rey uttered. Ren’s eyes flashed as angrily as the red of his blade, but it was gone in an instant. Another perfectly executed twirl of the blade and he poised it directly in front of her, angled towards her neck. In a flash, Rey had kicked the staff from underneath him, and Ren stumbled to the floor as she wound the staff around her and positioned it at his neck. She blew some strands of hair from her face and smiled at him mockingly.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Ren admitted, wincing. “But you need a teacher.”

Rey let out an amused huff as she lent him a hand. 

“Considering I am hired for the precise reason of education, you certainly think I need a lot more of it myself,” she replied.

He looked down at his palm for a long moment when she had let go and flexed it thoughtfully.

“Evil is a matter of perspective.” He finally looked up at her through strands of dark hair. Running a hand through it, he gestured to the sword on the ground. “I can teach you, you know. If you want. Not for Babette’s education, though.”

Rey snorted, an unladylike sound that she somehow did not mind coming across so. “I think I have a natural aptitude, Mr Ren.” It was not entirely true. Rat! A voice deep within a memory chimed. She saw John Reed’s face above her as he brandished one of his mother’s vases in hand. It came smashing down on her as her instincts screamed at her to fight back.

“That you do,” Ren grimaced, bringing her back to the present. She took his arm and they made their way to the beach, where Babette was waiting.

* * *

“Can I go in the water?” Babette entreated, her large blue eyes widening. Rey nodded. 

“Don’t go too far,” she called, as Babette had already started running to the water’s edge. She watched the girl splash around delightedly with some envy as Mitaka spread out a picnic rug over the sand. Rey sat down immediately, smoothing her skirts and Ren quickly followed.

“I hate sand,” he sighed, brushing some of it off the legs of his trousers. “And it’s too sunny. Mitaka, get a parasol from the carriage.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did you come if you hate it so much?” Rey inquired, squinting at him in the bright light.

“You wanted to come, didn’t you?” As if that was an explanation for why he himself was required to attend. Rey hummed and looked towards Babette again. Her hair shone in the sunlight. When Rey faced Ren again, she saw that there was something markedly changed about him. There was a smile lingering at his lips, his posture relaxed. Though there was still a sternness about his brow, and his dark clothes and hair seemed entirely at odds with his surroundings, Rey perceived that despite his words, he was enjoying himself. 

“You examine me, Miss Kenobi,” he said suddenly, turning to face her. Rey startled. “Do you think me handsome?”

“No, sir.” It was only after uttering the words that she thought maybe she should have answered him in a more polite fashion. Ren looked halfway between offended and amused. Mitaka returned with the basket, and set about laying the food out for them. 

“You’re very blunt,” he mused, accepting a wine glass from Mitaka, which was filled promptly. Rey refused one for herself and fiddled with the beige skirts of her dress. “You’re so quiet and unassuming, always fiddling with your hands on your skirts like you’re a mouse scavenging for loose crumbs. Except when you’re looking so piercingly at my profile, thinking I don’t notice. But when asked a question, you respond so brusquely. What do you mean by it?”

“I apologise – I was too plain. What I meant to say was that beauty is of little consequence.”

Ren snorted, taking a sip of his wine. “Come on, Miss Kenobi. What would you criticise about me? My nose is too large?” he tapped the end of it, before examining Rey’s non-response and moving to swipe a hand through his dark locks. “Does my hair not please you?”

“I think you do not show your true face often. That is why I, as you say, piercingly look at your profile – I believe you hide yourself under a mask and it can only be lifted when you are unaware of the presence and ponderings of others.”

Ren studied her for a long moment. “And what do you see under the mask?”

Rey sighed lightly. “I see someone kind, who could take in a motherless child.” Babette laughed loudly then, and yelled something in French that Rey could not catch above the sound of the waves.

“Hm. And does that leave hope for me?”

“Hope of what?”

“Redemption,” Ren replied, his eyes far away and unreadable. “Redemption for remaining too long in such a mask.”

Rey frowned, unable to ascertain his meaning. The red wine glinted in the sunlight, casting a glow on his skin as she suddenly wondered if the alcohol affected him too quickly.

Suddenly he sighed and surveyed her once more, taking in various aspects of her face. “You look very puzzled, Miss Kenobi. You are no more pretty than I am handsome, but a puzzled air becomes you. At least it means you have not gleaned too much from your perusal of me, because I guarantee you would not be as impressed by the reality.” 

Rey frowned even deeper as Ren shook off his acute description of her and opened the basket beside them, picking around with his large hands until he found a container of blueberries. She wondered what it was about him exactly that she found... not quite handsome, but somewhat appealing. She was sure that many would consider him an ugly man, with his unusually large features and large freckles, and his too-pale complexion that was completely at odds with his dark hair. But he moved with such confidence, there was such an innate power in his words and movements that convinced her there was some kind of unseen force driving him. His eyes – at times frightfully reflective of this power, at times gentle beyond belief – atoned for his lack of personal attractiveness and spoke of unpredictability that Rey decided was beautiful.

Ren took another gulp of wine and poured a second glass when it was empty. “I am disposed to be talkative today. In fact, that is why I insisted on accompanying you and Babette despite my hatred of beaches.” He smiled wryly as he cupped some sand in his hand and let it sift through back to where it belonged. “Thornfield does not provide me with suitable company. Chewbacca, though try as he might to speak with his persistent howling, is after all a dog. Mrs Kanata and Babette are a degree better, but you... I have been fascinated by you ever since the first evening I met you.”

Rey could not quite find it within her to bring to life the words in her head, that she had thought much the same.

“And so, it would please me to learn more about you,” he continued. “So speak.” 

She almost scowled at him ordering her to do so like a dog. Rey knew she would not – could not – speak for the mere sake of speaking. Ren had leaned back on one arm, the wine glass making the familiar travel to his lips. The longer he studied her, as though she were about to present a play for his amusement, the more Rey let the scowl present on her face until he became aware of it. “If only I could read your thoughts, Miss Kenobi. You are so silent.”

“I would suspect my thoughts would be evident enough from my face,” Rey replied, gritting her teeth.

“Stubborn and annoyed,” Ren smirked, twirling the glass in hand. “I admit any condescension on my part merely comes from ten years’ difference in age and life experience. Don’t you agree I have a right to be demanding given my comparative maturity?”

Rey ground her teeth together. “I do not believe that you being older than me, or having more worldly experiences, gives you the right to command me.”

Ren smiled indulgently. 

“I believe that your claim to superiority would depend on the use you have made of your age and experience,” she continued.

“Clever, but that won’t suit me at all, because I have made poor use of both.”

It was Rey’s turn to smirk at his frankness, and she leaned over and plucked a berry from the container near him. She bit into it and some juice trailed down her chin. Licking her lips quickly, she saw Ren follow the motion from the corner of her eye. He shifted as though he had grown uncomfortable with his position.

“You must agree to receive my orders from time to time without being offended by the tone of my command. Will you?” 

Rey huffed lightly, smiling. He seemed to forget he was paying her 30 pounds a year for this precise reason.

“Your smile is all very well and good, but speak your mind?”

“I was only thinking, sir, that not many masters would be concerned with how their paid subordinates think about the tone of their commands.”

“Paid subordinate?” he blinked, “I had forgotten your salary.”

Rey laughed. 

“I congratulate you for freely speaking your opinions, Miss Kenobi. Not one in a thousand governesses would have spoken to me as you have. I don’t want to speak too hastily, because you could still prove to be like the others, you may prove to have intolerable defects that counterbalance your few good points.”

Rey raised an eyebrow. And so may you, she thought.

He caught the motion and smiled grimly. “And so may I,” he repeated, as though he had plucked the thought from her very mind. “I have plenty of faults of my own. If I hadn’t experienced the misfortunes I have in this past decade, I may have turned out as good as you, only wiser.”

“Is this... does this refer to your earlier talk of redemption? For what do you wish to be redeemed?” Rey ventured quietly, and she noticed a darkness cross his face despite the unhindered sun. Ren poured another glass of wine and took a hearty swig.

“Remorse is the poison of life, Miss Kenobi,” he uttered bitterly. “The truth is that, cursed as I am, I am plagued with responsibility.”

“They say that repentance is the cure for remorse, sir,” Rey replied, picking at the sand.

“But what is the use when none will hear it?”

Rey frowned. “God will hear it-“

Ren laughed loudly, darkly. “God?” he questioned as though she had told a very clever joke. “Since happiness is denied me, I have a right to get pleasure out of life, and I will get it, whatever the cost.”

“You talk a lot of your ‘right’ to happiness, to command - do you not believe that such an attitude will only cause you to degenerate, sir?” Rey asked, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Possibly – but why should I, if I can get sweet, fresh pleasure? As soothing and cool as the sea?” he gestured to the ocean, glinting in its glory.

“It will only burn, sir.” 

“You have no right to preach to me! You should be glad of your lack of family, Miss Kenobi. They are the root of my troubles, they caused me to head down a path I should not have tread.”

Rey gasped. “How dare you speak to me of family in such a way? You have a mother, Mr Ren. It has been your choice, I hear, to not speak to her for so long. Right your wrongs, fix the happiness that is within your reach if only you can set aside your ‘right’ to pride for five minutes of an hour!”

He took a second to down the last bit of red wine and set it unsteadily on the rug. 

“You’re afraid,” Rey spat. “You’re afraid of what might happen should you finally face your mother.” She got up and headed over to Babette, where she began the lesson she should have begun an hour previous.

* * *

Though she was evidently the plainest sight out there in the open, Ren’s eyes continually landed on Rey as she frolicked in the surf with Babette a while. She ignored him as best she could, but he was a dark blight on the sand. The feel of the ocean against her feet was unlike anything she had ever felt, and she found herself drawn further into its depths, uncaring of the state of her dress. Her skirts were drenched, now, and when she turned around she did not realise she had left the shore so far behind. Babette remained where the waves met the sand, not as adventurous as Rey, who suddenly felt a tug against her hip. Alarmed, she looked down. As she did so, she was swept sideways with a force that she could not control. She was at the mercy of the sea. She was entirely drenched now, frantically scrambling to find purchase on the sand below, but she was in too deep. Rey could not swim. Babette yelled something unintelligible, and she caught a flash of her red hair before being dunked under the water by that untameable force she could not put a name to. I can’t die, Rey thought. I have to fight, I have to survive. Darkness clouded her vision.

_“You ungrateful little rat!” John tore the book from Rey’s hands and clasped his hands about her neck. She couldn’t breathe. She scratched at his hands until he bled and he let go._

_“I’ve never seen such a force of darkness in a child,” Mrs Reed’s sallow face, floating close by. “Lock her in the red room.”_

_“Hold her arms, Mrs Abbott – she’s like a mad cat. For shame! To attack your benefactress’ son, your young master!”_

_“He is not my master. I’m not a servant!”_

_“No, you are not. You are less than a servant. If you don’t sit still, you will be tied down.”_

_“The Reeds will have a great deal of money, and you will have none. It is your place to be humble. If you are passionate and rude you shall be sent away to the Jakku institution.”_

_"Please, don't put me in the red room, Uncle Luke's ghost is there-"_

_“God will punish you, Miss Kenobi. Abandoned with no family to love you. Scavenging for scraps of affection. Imagining Mr Ren could ever see you as his equal. Pathetic.”_

Air burst into Rey’s lungs as she coughed, shuddering and scrambling to sit upright. She felt the warm presence of a body around her, strong arms lifting her up, a comforting heart beat that was not her own close to her ear. Eyes blinking open, she looked up into the light to see Ren looking down at her, his eyes both gentle and wild this time, as the sea had proven to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* a hint of a plot twist!
> 
> This chapter was originally "Water and Fire" but it got too long so... you might be able to guess what will happen next chapter.


End file.
